


The Witch of Gha'alia

by sunlitwitch



Category: Ebon Light (Visual Novel)
Genre: Blood and Violence, F/M, Other, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:14:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22036132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlitwitch/pseuds/sunlitwitch
Summary: After the aftermath of the civil uprising, the Gha'alians brought back the title of Alluvion and bestowed it upon a human woman; an unsuspecting Edriceal with a strange power. In time, the rumors spread. Alāe became known to her countrymen as many things, but as her influence slowly grew to those countries outside the border, she became known asthe Witch of Gha'alia.[Just so you know upfront—spoiler warning, big time!]
Relationships: Alenca Goffil | Main Character/Duliae Laushust
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Encouraged as I was in the discord server to finally share what's been rattling around in my head, I present to you: chapter one of the Witch of Gha'alia!
> 
> I hope you enjoy. 💕
> 
>  _Note:_ Just as was said before, there are lots of spoilers in this so uh... Look out for those!

Blue sky and orange dune split the world into two hemispheres of color. There was no scent in the air, save the earthen stench of bodies in high afternoon. Heat roiled from the sand in undulating waves. Their group rode on the backs of strange creatures with the ability to retain water and an unfortunate need to spit. Among them were scouts, both Gha’alian and Hasperal, as well a collection of witnesses from the wise folk that kept watch over their mysterious settlement.

The Witch of Gha'alia was a lone streak of blood amongst earth and storm, her red scarf billowing a trail over the windswept dunes. Nearly every inch of her was concealed from the sun, save her pair of impassive eyes; a cold drink of blue.

As they rode, she reflected. Rumors of an old relic had drawn the interest of the Alluvion; as it turned out, the information had proved reliable as it’d seemed. People sang songs of a man-eater guarding a blemished mirror—glass with the power to bear the truth of the past. It was precisely what they needed to dig more deeper into the existence of the Hadoen people.

Despite the guesswork, Alāe had come to believe in the truth eclipsed within legends. With Axsix's leave, she’d taken a small retinue of scouts and soldiers and sailed toward the deserts of the south. It'd been a longshot. As such, she went under the auspices of diplomacy, however thin it might've seemed.

The high crags of the cliff wall gave way to a large cave—the only passage for miles of vast desert. It was an area the scouts managed to survey at a distance days before, giving her time to cobble together a plan. They stopped. One of the wisefolk placed a weathered hand on her shoulder as she began to move ahead.

“Be careful, eylaal es.” He said. Alāe replied with her usual enigmatic smile. His regard was touching. “Do not worry for me, Elder,” she said. “I have fought greaters beasts at sea.”

She dismounted and slowly began to pick her way toward the semi-enclosed space. The ground inside it turned from sand to partial rock; the remains of ruined cobblestone. Along the inner edge across the space, she glimpsed a large dark cave entrance set into the cliffside. 

It was as if she stepped passed an invisible threshold. The ground began to tremble. From deep within the recesses of the stone shambled a creature wreathed in flame. Its twisted form beneath the dancing coat of fire was blackened and warped, as if cursed to live with the torment of its own body. It stood higher than any man she’d ever seen. Alāe stood resolute, even as it inched perilously close. Silence descended on them; the tension rising, for its jaws to open, revealing a slavering maw of broken and rotted teeth. Noise strangled from its throat—a cry so piercing it was enough to force the rest of her group to shield their ears, even at a distance.

She flinched. Her body tensed. 

“Hungry, are we?” She replied, trying to keep an edge despite her nerves. It was never ideal to come against such an enemy directly, but the people of Hasper hadn’t given her much recourse. It was that or risk her group in a fruitless endeavor.

“Then follow me,” she replied, eyes flashing with the power of the trahyan. The beast shot like an arrow out to grasp her in its blackened fingers quicker than she might have liked, forcing her and the purple shield back. Her feet slid deeper into the sand.

The fire was so close it licked at her clothes, her hair. Alāe began to parry blow after blow, each sending her further back. Violet flashed, colliding with tongues of orange flame. It used the curse, shaping it as she had her own. The collection of soldiers, scouts and civil officials slowly backed out of their range. 

It was all accounted for. Just as she’d predicted, Alāe was able to lure it further and further from the cave. With each movement of their dance, they crept closer to the spot she’d inspected earlier on. Had it been a thinking being, none of this would have been possible. Lucky for her (and the people of Hasper) all it knew was rage and hunger.

The beast lunged forward with another ear-splitting scream, sending her splayed backward into the sand. Right where it needed to be. 

“Seems to have worked so far.” Taiacht said, his low murmur echoing in the vault of her mind. “Too bad you’ll be caught in your own trap.” 

It was no easy task to ignore him under duress, but it wouldn’t be the first time. 

“Come on!” She cried, forcing her power not out toward her assailant, but down. The sand began to shift below just as the creature made to lunge. 

For one moment it paused with a plaintive cry as it felt the ground give way. Alāe drove deep into the unstable dune, breaking a platform of wooden boards beneath until she could feel the trahyan hit open air. 

Then, they both fell as the ground spontaneously opened beneath them. It was a sickening feeling, to be plunged so abruptly into freefall. For one brief second she made to right her body, which turned out to be a mistake. Instead, her left calf bore the impact of the shallow pool as they hit the ground, divesting from her leg with a sickening crunch. 

“So you lost the gambit,” Taiacht said. “Water, but not enough.”

Alāe was too scrambled to think. The sheer pain of her leg was unreal; so much that for a moment she lost the ability to react, watching somewhere outside her own body as blood clouded the water. The beast howled in agony as half its body was submerged. It bought enough time for her to claw to her feet, using some of the fallen wood as a brace.

She knew she was in shock. It was a small miracle she hadn’t lost consciousness altogether. Likewise, it was only a matter of time before the beast regained some of its senses. Light brushed along her flesh; the phantom of a warm hand touched lightly on her shoulder. It had the seeming of her own, but she knew instead it came at a distance, reaching from somewhere deep within. 

“Feeling sentimental?” She asked him. “I’m surprised at you.”

There was no reply for a moment. She smiled. Despite ever being at odds, she really had managed to make an impression on Taiacht. It wasn’t something she was likely to let him forget.

“I can hear that well enough,” he grumbled. She smiled, abstracted from the chemicals racing through her system. “To me, then. I will force you,” she replied, unsettlingly calm.

_“Yes…”_ He said. 

The trayhan roared to life with only the slightly coercion. Alāe pushed it forth, slamming the creature into the deepest part of the pool. Even through the power she could feel the burning, the frenzy of its coiled muscles as it struggled against her. It wasn’t deep enough to submerge the beast entirely, but it would do—the head was under. It was enough.

The struggle only lasted a minute, but tension and blood loss extended it far beyond its seeming. She watched as the thrashing grew more feeble, until lungfuls of blood and water drew all life from its flaming bones.

The edges of her vision grew dark. “Taiacht,” she whispered. Whatever she’d intended next was gone. There was only silence and then nothing as a kind of strange lassitude stole her away, into the void of nothing.


	2. Jaule!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alāe has a chat with Taiacht following their confrontation with the wretch of the sands. Their attempts to return to Gha'alia however are forestalled by a big ass party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit, I enjoyed writing this. I hope you all enjoy it, too!

The dark was senseless. There was no whorl of chaos as often happens in dreaming, but rather blissful non-existence. So it was, stretching on for an indeterminate amount of time until something gently tugged at the edges. The pull at her conscious mind was enough to inform her that on some level, her body was waking. Somehow, she had survived.

As ever, she felt the drop; that strange sense of descending in the spaces deep within. Here it too was dark, but she was standing somewhere between the haze and the void—an endless shroud of nothing. Alāe was corporeal and as such, knew her destination. It was the only point of contact between her and the passenger; her once unwelcome guest.

“Taiacht,” she said again. From the nebulous black, a mirror image of her own form emerged. It gazed back at her, folding its arms.

“You meant to thank me, I presume?” He replied. At first, it’d been unsettling to hear her own figure speak with a male voice. Now she showed little reaction, save a smile.

“Is this your way of asking for thanks?” She asked, eyes narrow. “If so, I’d be more than happy to pay that price.”

Taiacht merely scoffed. “Gratitude is worthless. I’m here to tell you not to visit my intentions—that is all. Whatever bond you may think you have forged between us _human_ , know that I am still set on having my revenge.”

She ran fingers over the edge of her clothes; they were as tattered as they’d been in the desert, soaked through with blood.

“Gratitude comes at the cost of one’s pride. If I thank you, perhaps you will see.” 

Silence fell between them. Wearily, Alāe combed fingers through her auburn hair. It was odd to feel her locks tangled with sand, as if she were truly embodied. It nonetheless served as a comfort. The reminder of her survival, if nothing else.

“Thank you,” she said mildly.

“So you thank me,” he replied with no small amount of spite. “For what?”

“Power,” she answered. “Prestige among the heartless and cruel. Survival and…” she trailed, barely concealing a grin, “your company.”

“You mock me, even now.” He said with a scowl. Her phantom twin shook the sand from its hair. “Yours a plague which can only be cured by death.”

Feigning disinterest, she scanned her nailbeds. “You must admit we’ve grown closer, in spite of your attitude. Tell me: why do you hide from me, Taiacht? Surely you must know what you look like.”

He took a step toward her, menacing. “I could kill you, here. Keep you trapped until you rot and waste away.” The threat slipped from between clenched teeth.

“Tell me: how do you plan to free your brethren?” Alāe replied. “Do you hope to be free from the shadow of your kin that way?”

Taiacht took another step, eyes shining with a special kind of hatred. “You play with your life, fool.” 

“I am the only amongst us two who seems willing to set things aside.” She said, taking a step toward him in kind. “My interest isn’t merely academic. I want to see you so I can know you,” Alāe said. “Cutinah. Taiacht, the bearer of my madness.”

He stopped, frowning. The anger in him swayed unsteadily. “Why?”

“If you know my mind, then you tell me.” She replied. “Why is it that you find that you begin to soften?” There was amusement in her tone; they were dancing around the matter. “Why haven’t you killed me, if that was truly your plan?”

“You’ve have not done as I asked,” he replied, growling. “I told you, I would break your mind!”

She nodded. “Yet, you haven’t. Do you truly hate me?”

Taiacht’s fists clenched and unclenched. He often bore an expression she’d never seen in the mirror; it was enough to tell the two of them apart.

“I hate you, yes. You are vain, self-serving and calculating, your every step rife with the stench of fear. You are a peasant playing at being a queen.”

“Yes, and you are the brother of the new Luminary as I recall,” she said, placating. “Posturing aside, I’ve said it before: do you think I expect to be rewarded for my service? Damn me as you must, but one may not sleep with snakes without accepting their power to bite.”

“You would know much about that.” Taiacht muttered, largely to himself.

“Taiacht. I have made efforts to connect with you. Look around us.” Alāe said, gesturing to the empty space. “I wanted to seek you. To fate, we are victims both.”

He again, did not reply. Her mirror image merely stared impassively. It was an expression to match her own. 

“Are you jealous of him? Duliae?” She asked, finally.

“You are trying to goad me,” he replied angrily. Alāe arched a brow. 

“I told you not to visit my intentions!” He shouted, angrier still. She could suddenly feel movement; color and sensation bleeding in from the outside world. 

“Consider what I’ve asked of you,” she said halfway to waking. “I want to see your face.”

There was no sound, no reply—nothing save for the last fleeting glimpse of their space deep within. Then suddenly, the veil was lifted. Beneath heavy limbs there was a warm bed. The sunlight was fleeting, somewhere on the edge of twilight. Dark hair, white skin; a matching pair of turquoise eyes gazed back at her. Raian.

✧✧✧

“You’re awake!” She exclaimed, nearly shooting out of the chair. “Finally! It’s been almost a week. We started considering taking you home by wyvern…”

She smiled a lazy smile, in spite of the pain now creeping up her fractured leg. “Report. Did we recover the mirror?”

“We did—well, Porrux did, really. It took solving a few old puzzles and there was the matter of some ancient flesh-eating slugs, but they were easily dispatched. Oh Alāe, I’m glad you’re alive!”

With a stretch, she considered her leg. “You’re pretty sentimental for an elf,” she replied. “Then again, you’re only around thirty aren’t you?”

“We’re the same age,” Raian whined, her brows furrowed. “At least act happy to see me!”

“I am pleased to see you,” Alāe replied, “and all the more pleased to be alive. What did the healers say of my injury?”

To that, the she-elf frowned. “They said it’s hard to tell. The bone was poking out from the skin. It isn’t now, but it’ll still take some time to recover.”

“Lovely.” Alāe said. “Time to get up, then. We’ve got a ship to catch.”

“What?” Raian exclaimed. “No, no! You need to sta—what are you doing?” 

By then, she was already clambering from the bed to the floor. Pain seized her with even the slightest of movement. The moment she got to her feet she nearly collapsed. “Great,” she muttered, stumbling. “Now Duliae and I match…”

“Ah, about him.” Raian said, helping her stand upright. “Porrux insisted I deliver this letter. It was carried over by wyvern this morning.”

With no small amount of restraint, she received the parchment gracefully before tearing it open. Inside, in his usual spidery scrawl was a series of coded messages disguised as platitudes. There were matters she needed to attend back home, lest he navigate half her trade agreements his way. There was also a domestic issue with Vanya. 

“Sleeping with snakes indeed,” she murmured to no one in particular.

“Trouble in paradise?” Raian piped cheerfully. “Yes. Tell everyone I’ve left him and taken his favorite cane as soon as we get back.” Alāe replied with no small amount of humor.

“Alāe....?” She called after, even as she lamely struggled past her into the corridor. 

The hall stretched on in tan adobe, strewn with textile and tapestry. Their stone was square and smoothly cut. Hasperal had no concept of glass windows that she had seen, as if to tempt in any passing breeze. Alāe actually had to lean against a wall to mop her brow, panting. The pain was in a word, immense.

Thin fabric cinched her waist, strategic beige layered in all the right places. It left her with only a modicum of dignity. Fashion it seemed, was one of the many ways they dealt with the heat.

As she arrived into the waiting hall, there was a party to receive her. Several of the guards looked relieved. Porrux smiled in his usual clever way, offering her a cane the healers had left behind. “No thank you,” she replied, waving him away. “I’d rather not bear any resemblance to my beloved.”

“Stubborn.” Taiacht said. She deigned not to reply to that, aloud or otherwise.

“We’ve recovered the mirror or so Raian informs me,” Alāe said. “We can schedule a final meeting with the dignitaries before we leave.”

“I’d hardly call them that,” Porrux snorted. “They’ve about the scantest concept of hierarchy I’ve ever seen or heard of.” Some of the others murmured their agreement, as if scandalized by the willful lack of heartless domination.

“That’s not the only thing that’s scant,” Alāe muttered with a downward glance, causing several of the guard to avert their eyes.

“Ah, don’t worry. She hasn’t killed anyone yet.” Raian piped from behind her. 

“Not today, at least.” Alāe said with a grin. “Speaking of which: how about the stories around our most recent victory, hm? Do tell me the rumors that crop up.”

“Like how Duliae and her are over, apparently.” Raian said. Porrux merely chuckled as he toyed with the blade in his hand.

“Heh,” he snorted. “I suppose we can pass that along.” 

Alāe managed to roll her eyes for only a brief moment, before a fresh wave of pain nearly threw her to the ground. She swayed unsteadily on her feet. It was so intense her stomach voiced its displeasure.

“So about leaving,” she replied, gently pushing Raian aside even as she reached to help. The young she-elf frowned.

“That’s the thing,” Porrux replied. “We’ll be out of here at our next opportunity… But ah, not without a little celebration.”

Alāe felt weary at even the thought. “Please tell me there won’t be any…”

_Dancing._

Later that night, she found her outfit had only changed in the most unremarkable of ways. She was fitted in a deep red, drawn into an elaborate twist over her left shoulder. The rest was much the same as before—scant fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination only now with the merciful addition of pants. The scarf she’d used previously was tied around her waist.

“You only have to dance in front of the fire,” Raian explained. “I mean, well, you don’t have to, but—”

“It would please us greatly if you did. In times of celebration, the lone dancer takes the tune into their body. They give it expression.” The man said with a wrinkled smile. “Elder,” she greeted him with a respectful incline of her head.

“We have thought on all that you have done for us. Traders may again seek us from the ports of the west.” The Elder patted her shoulder. “If all of Gha’alia should bear us such dignity, perhaps we might seek more agreements.” He offered. Alāe offered him a smile, touched by amusement. “Dignity is in no short supply on our little island, though I ought to mention due to ah—cultural differences, many would not be quick to show deference in a place like this.”

The Elder nodded. “So it may be true, eylaal es.”

For a moment, she weighed her question. “May I ask you something, Elder?” She replied. “I’m to understand this is an appellative of some kind—this term you’ve given me—but what exactly is the significance? You’ve not used it with any of the others.”

The Elder nodded, flashing a few broken teeth. “They are ‘ris taleen,’ the black wind. Their color gives them meaning—the expression also, that they are swift.”

Alāe tilted her head, inquisitively. “Eylaal es, then?”

“In exchange,” he said with a sparkle in his eye, might I ask you the meaning of these markings?” He gestured to the tattoo running the length of her vertebrae. “Am I correct to assume they are in the speech of your elves?”

Alāe gave him an amused expression that was unsettlingly reminiscent of Duliae. “So it’s a trade, then. Very well.” 

From the corner of her eye, she could see Porrux bite into an apple while others dithered over the bonfire at their flank. He was pretending not to listen but even having known him for a short span of time, Alāe knew very well that he was.

“Il’naen vat naen.” Alāe replied in a moment. “In the common tongue, it is something like: ‘consume that which seeks to consume.’”

“You have a sense of irony,” Taiacht remarked. “I’ll give you that.”

The Elder ran an experimental hand over the mandolin at his side; the gentle pull of the strings seemed to blend with all the others. All around the open space, musicians plied their skill in a kind of musical cacophony. 

“Thank you,” he replied with a cheerful grin. “Now, for your answer.” He indulged in another another experimental strum. “Eylaal es means “heart red.” We weave into our songs often, for those who bear great feeling must also bear its weight.”

Alāe felt momentarily at a loss. “Great feeling?” She replied. The sudden shift in her posture sent a shudder of agony up her leg, though far less of one considering the medicine she’d taken.

“This has been a fun diversion,” Raian whispered in her ear from behind, “but it’s time to learn how to dance, _eylaal es._ ”

Alāe groaned. “I’ll be dancing, though you will have to forgive me if I don’t move overmuch.”

“Oh don’t worry,” Raian said, barely suppressing a wince. Sensitive ears. “It’s not so much moving with the legs. More like… gyration. Lots of the movement with the hips.”

 _“Great.”_ Alāe said. 

In spite of being told otherwise and with a bit of help, she managed to get nicely drunk—enough that she’d be feeling it in the morning. 

The ceremony opened with an almost symphonic explosion; it was magic to hear chaos unify in a moment. The drums carried a deep, almost hypnotic beat while wind and string told a story. Flames danced behind her silhouette. The had been song written about their exploits; she rolled her hips to each verse of the fight, bending her spine low and moving in a kind of trance as they sang of her fall, into the cavernous darkness.

Water in the desert. In the waters of its birth, the creature was again slain. The song ended to a thunderous applause. All around them, people stood and saluted. By the end, she was feeling light enough to tell a tale or two, even.

“Jaule!” She cried, raising her first into the air. The Gha’alians all responded, raising a toast to the air. It was triumph, however transient.

The next day on the ship she was hanging off the railing. “Jaule!” Porrux said again, this time giving her a swift slap on the back. Her stomach heaved its contents.

 _“Jaule,”_ she murmured in spite, mopping her chin.

At least they were going home.


	3. The Call of the Generals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment their party sets foot in Gha'alia, trouble brews once more—this time with a summons from the new Grand General.

The waters were mercifully calm as they pulled into port, though above the skies were matte—velvet and heavy with rain. In the distance, the spire of Gha’alian settlement loomed as a predator perched on the coast. Even the hem of the skyline was clouded with a belly of fog as iron found new beds in their blade-handles. It was the same city as ever, if only in appearance alone.

The docks were experiencing an unusual lull, with only a few prying eyes about. “Lea’k na’nad loshien, Alluvion.” The solidier said as they filed down the plank. By the sound of the voice, she suspected she knew the man. 

“Jaulienn,” she replied. “Here to assess the Second Storm?”

“That and also to bring news.” Alāe raised a brow, shifting the weight from her injury. The bone had knit, but still did not sit well—such a thing would require more attention from the healers. Some part of her did not relish the thought.

“Your foolish ploy was as ever, your undoing.” Taiacht drawled.

“Speak, soldier.” She said. The man took a step, leaning in conspiratorially. “The Grand General sends for you.” He whispered. “This is all I know.”

She nodded grimly. “Irel’hei’i. I will attend the summons. You may attend your duties.”

The man wavered a moment, before whispering even lower. All around, soldiers in their black iron filed on toward the ship. “One last thing,” he said. “Telandin, human. You and I both are far from the Dakena’tha, these days.”

“Ah,” she replied, brighter this time. “Etchtom. It feels like meeting an old friend.”

The soldier nodded again, this time making his way with the rest. For a moment she lingered, considering his words. It was a small but merciful reprieve. There was no time to even attend Duliae though as ever, she suspected his ears and eyes were near.

They made their way through paved Gha’alian streets, her scarlet cutting a wide swath through the grey and black. The stone pavement seemed to swell with anticipation for the rain. As she made her way through the crowds the attention was as mixed as ever; passing stares of wonder, suspicion, respect and hatred. 

Just as she had on the Bastion so long ago, she smiled—smiled in the faces of those who passed. It was her other smiling self; a second skin for prying eyes.

The guards spared her only a cursory assessment before her admittance to the fortress. The imposing edifice was as dark and sharp as a black-handled dagger.

Flanked by Raian and Porrux, she found her way to the offices of the Grand General. The title had recently been claimed by Faelain, much to the celebration of his kin. Many said it had been a fine choice. Alāe was inclined to agree; he deferred to Axsix for much, giving the Alluvion the precious mobility they needed to thrive.

Just a knock upon the heavy door and she was already identified. “Enter,” he called, in his deep baritone.

Alāe stepped through the threshhold, hiding her trepidation. Assembled before her were an array of both familiar and unfamiliar faces; Axsix as well as Likan and a few other generals of whom she had yet to become entirely aware.

In the low crackle of the brazier, she could almost sketch the lines on their faces. All save Axsix bore a scar—a grander testament to their station than any regalia might hold.

“I see you have done as asked,” Faelain said. He was an attractive man with a gentle voice but an imposing figure; his dark, sea-colored eyes strangely reminiscent of Calipoa. The long dark river of his hair was tied back, errant strands loose upon his brow. 

On the steep angle of his shoulders rested all the weight of Gha’alian pride, yet he stood upright. Only time would tell if and how that might change.

“Well met, Generals.” Alāe bowed in deference. “I came as soon as I was able.”

“Jaulienn,” Faelain said. “The moment the wyverns caught sight of the Second Storm, the meeting was set. There are matters to be discussed; some more pressing than others.”

Raian and Porrux took a step for the door; she gave them a nod. These were matters they would be briefed on later, were the need to arise.

“We have received reports of Lalari aggression inbound for Zikarik.” Axsix said. His unblinking laurel gaze was ever a point of fascination; it so much like Mietwen and yet, so much his own. “Intelligence has alerted us to unexpected support by the Rothlei in this matter; it seems our meddling has become a thorn in their side.” 

“Zikarik is worthless, but it comes at the cost of Gha’alian honor.” Likan added. “We will not cede land to the Lalari, not when it can be defended.”

“It comes also at the cost of Gha’alian lives,” Faelain said. “But with hope alive in the Alluvion, we maintain the notion that an origin may yet be attributed to this “Snake’s Defense.” If the fistris can be cured, the island would benefit greatly.”

“I’d not risk her,” Axsix added, gently. The two of them exchanged a lingering glance, before Faelain said: “Neither would I. Yet we are running out of options. Still, the matter may be discussed.”

“I am to elaborate on this disease?” She said. “So far, the healers have yet to find an effective treatment. Do you believe it to be somehow arcane?”

“No,” Faelain said. “Not yet, anyway. You may be alluvion but you are also zortat—which means we will need you instead at the hand of the Mask Commander. He believes your gifts will be an asset in dealing with the Rothlei fleet.”

She was so new in her training and yet, had come so far. Six months in and out of the Mask Enclave had taught her much; though still not so much as her meditation. Her use of the trayhan became more precise with each passing day, far more within her control as she fought to strike an accord with its master.

“I am at your service,” she said to Axsix, inclining her head. His eyes never left her; the atmosphere only enhance his unusually keen interest.

“I look forward to seeing what your training has wrought.” He replied. Something passed between them, something she couldn’t articulate in words. Axsix was in truth, a mask in the fullest sense of the word. His motives were always an unknown.

“There is also, another matter…” Faelain trailed. “This time, regarding the Dianoth.”

Alāe did her best to remain impassive, even as her mind raced. She had yet to engage with the generals directly; before, she’d been treated as potential to be nurtured. Now with no preamble whatsoever she was cast into the fire. 

Success was her only option. Whatever was asked, she would do it—she would find a way.

“You were chosen as zortat for your keen mind as well as your disarming presence,” Faelain said. “Axsix has suggested you as the primary diplomat in this matter and I support his decision. I believe he is right.”

“At current, Dianoth is close to a succession crisis. It is well-hidden, but tensions increase with the monarch’s advanced age.” Axsix said. “His chosen heir is not the eldest; a cause for some scandal amongst them, but nonetheless sympathetic to Gha’alian aid. Yet the loyalists would see tradition honored and likewise, would impede our agenda. Without Dianoth coin, we would see far less trade—putting us in a delicate place.”

She nodded, piecing it together. “So you’d have me influence this succession. Our aid comes as an extension of goodwill; a human ambassador to pull human strings.”

“Indeed.” Faelain replied. “I’d suggest you become familiar with the customs and traditions of the Dian Empire whenever possible. Axsix will handle the rest.”

The silence lingered for just a moment. It held more sway than gravity for a moment as she felt the world turn beneath her feet. 

“As you say, Grand General. I will do so.” With a subtle embellish, she bowed once again.

“I expect you have much to do,” he said. “Dismissed.”

With one last sweeping glance, she took in the scene that would be either her rise or ruin. In all the tales she’d read or heard of heroes, many were given just as little choice. But they existed remote; on a page or in the mouth of some Edriceal farmer, far removed from the world. In real time, Alāe looked down the throat of destiny—and saw only the terrifying unknown.

The generals lingered, but Axsix moved to see her out. “I will brief you on matters more extensively in the coming days,” he said. She nodded. “For now, we can discuss your trip to Hasper. Or you can get some rest—as you prefer.”

At that, she could help but grin. The sun broke through the clouds. “Eager for a chat, are you?” She asked. His eyes softened, affording her that subtle quirk of his lips. “I would be interested to know what you have found,” he said, “but the conversation is just as appreciated, in its own right.”

“Let’s talk, then.” She replied, rolling her shoulders. “Shall we go to the usual spot?”

With a few parting words, Axsix joined her in the hallway amidst bustling soldiers, framers and kept. The dark, roughly hewn stone was lit only by taper and tallow, casting an ambient wash of gold on pallid skin. The two of them walked quickly, descending to level to the offices of the alluvion and their zortat brethern.

“I read the reports," Axsix remarked as they walked the ramparts. “How is your leg?” 

The earth was rain-slick and rich of petrichor. It had quickly become Alāe’s favorite scent. She inhaled deeply through her nose and tested her leg; it still ached the moment she favored it. 

“It’s getting better, but I plan to see a healer to be sure.” She replied. The blue of her gaze was nearly grey as the sky. “I don’t suppose you’d have one you’d recommend?”

Axsix chuckled. “Not letting the Onyx Chandler handle your affairs?” He asked. It was a verbal prodding. With total transparency, she scoffed. “I think I’d rather be a harpy’s dinner. With what independence I have to enjoy, I’d be loathe to surrender even an inch.”

There it was. That subtle smile, again. “The fact of your new residence, I’m sure.”

“I see you’re indeed up for a chat,” she said, echoing an earlier sentiment. Such conversation with Axsix was commonplace, though she could hardly ever make anything of it.

“What motivates others is a large factor in our success,” he replied. Still, the smile lingered. “I find your reactions to things interesting. You never seem to shy from the tempest, with all the terror it brings.”

Her grin broadened. “Let me try a reversal on you, just one time.” She said. “Maybe by asking deeply personal questions—like your favorite color, for example.”

He seemed entertained by the question. “And if I say it is black?” 

Alāe rolled her eyes. “Then I would say that’s likely a misdirection. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have come as a hypothetical in the first place.”

“He’s toying with you,” Taiacht remarked. “Here you are, with all these expectations…. Playing childish games.”

She ignored him, but in truth—it touched a nerve.

“Red, like the rust of a lingering sunset on midnight.” He said after a few more silent steps. Alāe found some comfort in a temporary victory. “Sometimes blue, when the color is just right.”

“When is that, exactly?” She asked, with just a touch of poorly-suppressed mirth.

The two of them stopped for just a moment. His stare was penetrating. “I know it when I see it,” he replied.

She tilted her head, quizzical. “I suppose I'll keep that in mind.”

Axsix chuckled at some private joke, once again continuing their pace. Naturally, she'd never been meant to understand. He was about as transparent as marbled rock; just as impenetrable and she was at his mercy—yet again.


	4. The Disappearing Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More revelations on Taiacht and a romantic homecoming for Alāe.

The candles burned low, down deep into their bowls of soot and wick and ash. Twilight turned to evening. After so many long turns of the page she was at last returning, from the great spire of Gha’alian engineering to the modest edifice of her cottage. The squalling of gulls were low and sparse, the streets were deserted. Before long, she stood situated at the entrance of her house; the bronze door knocker in the shape of a serpent’s gleaming head, bidding her welcome from within that blue hour.

Alāe was inside within the breadth of a key’s turn. Immediately, she was overtaken by pollen and sweetness. Within every empty space was an array of flowers, in so many arrangements she could scarcely imagine the time it took to assemble them. Lush green topiaries topped with virgin lilies; handpicked hyancinth smelling of summer glory and peonies, laid on top of roses, beneath countless others from one span of the room to the next.

“Duliae,” she breathed. It was excessive, even for him. 

Enchanted, she stepped into and turned the key once more, to find the blooming found its way even into the upstairs bedroom, where dozens of petals dripped from the duvet to the floor. There, tucked slightly beneath the pillows was a message.

“Your homecoming  
is an eternal Spring  
Welcome home, darling.  
—Duliae”

She sighed, blissful. Perhaps hearing of the meeting, he knew he’d not see her until the following day. Whatever the case, soon Alāe was peeling off the fabric from her voyage and sinking into the bath, to later crush her body against the roses and slip into the distant realms of sleep.

“An eternal Spring,” she whispered, into the last unspooling threads of consciousness. Just two words that kept her tied to the living, on the proper face of Caleare (if one could call it that).

Sleep was fitful. Her face was not her own. But it was a face—of that she was sure. It gazed listless down the darkened corridors of a place she could not recognize. The catwalks and halls could be called a building; perhaps even a temple. These too were braced with flowers, though the likes of them she could not place.

But the feelings, superimposed like a thin skin upon her own, were more ominous still. Helpless. Angry. The connection was growing deeper. Would she—he— they remember? Years spent in contemplation. The trahyan wandering up the broad green veins of a fern. The fierce cry of an eagle on high. 

“I will not surrender myself to this. I will not disappear. Not like my brothers. Not like…”

_No._

He cut the dream at its aching tether. There she’d been, so close that he hadn’t even noticed her.

_We are not the same._

Alāe nearly upended the bed. With no preamble, it was like slicing through a high-tension cord— the sensation sending her reeling back through realms of space and conscious awareness back to a moment where she was Alāe again; a human woman from Edric and not a being, a Cutinah lamenting what she spent her life coming to know.

They could not both exist together—that was the price. One party would inevitably become subsumed into the other. 

“I’m sorry Taiacht…” She whispered, knot at her throat. This was no unseen life passing into silence. What they had was shared between them; child to adult, hand to mouth, sleeping to waking; their worlds had become aligned. They were shared… and one would be lost to the other, with the plodding of the seasons. The passage of time.

All this, punctuated by the knock of brass against the doorframe. 

It took a few moments for her to become aware of the scent of brine and the far-off cries of sailors, the gentle susurrus of the tide and cool ocean breeze. The soft creak of wood beneath her naked feet was grounding, as was the ache in her leg. She slipped into a robe and mopped her eyes, making her way through drying petals to the door.

“Good morning, darling. Would you like to come in?” She asked. Duliae tapped the bottom of cane lightly against the stair, sporting a knowing look. He was decadent as ever, another bouquet tucked beneath his arm. 

“If I may,” he replied, almost stately. But the moment the door closed behind him they were at ease. Happy. As if she’d never left at all.

Alāe slipped into his arms like a glove. “You smell divine,” he whispered into her hair, planting a kiss at her brow. “I suppose I have someone to thank for that,” she replied. 

“Will you?” He whispered, violet eyes darker. “Thank him, that is. After all, there are a number of ways…” She laughed, lightly. He was liberation to the moment, for however long she could manage.”

“I will thank you in every tongue, every gesture. But I can start by making breakfast,” she replied, to which he chuckled with a private warmth. “I would be glad,” he said.

The kitchen was beyond the arch of the living room; a beautifully furnished cooking hearth with accoutrements of which before she could only dream. It was dark wood on the inside, with wide windows near the table that gazed out at the sea. Duliae seated himself there, watching her with a kind of singular interest she could scarcely ignore.

“Honestly,” she commented, “do you really enjoy watching me cook? Eating my food?” Alāe chuckled. “I don’t need to remind you that you hire professionals.”

Duliae grinned. “It isn’t the same, darling, not if you haven’t touched it. Besides—how many can say they’ve tasted cooking directly from Edric?”

To that, she laughed. “Nobody, not even _in_ Edric, you silly man. Not much to eat, there.”

He drifted beside her, silent as a cat. “So I’m silly, am I?” He whispered at her ear. “I suppose I’ve been called worse.” She giggled, nudging him with her hip. “Silly, yes, because I can’t focus with you hovering.”

“Will you tell me about your trip?” He asked, running a lithe finger over the shell of her ear.

“It was uneventful,” she replied, sighing. “Fought a monster, found a relic… Only it’s not worth much.” She sighed, rankling pots and pans in her frustration. “I’m… disappointed. The mirror…” She paused, this time turning to give him her undivided attention. “It sees lineages. That’s it.”

Duliae quirked his head. “How so?”

Alāe gave a smile, tolerantly amused by his needling for information. “It’s a mirror,” she began, “that shows the two parents of an individual as alternate faces when beheld. Great at parties. Not really worth the resources we spent, however.”

“As I hear however, that’s not all that the future brings.” To this, she grinned, allowing him to snake his arms around her as she sliced bread. 

“Oh? Heard that, did you?” She said.

“Ah, well. Perhaps I heard it on the wind…” He whispered, planting another chaste kiss at the nape of her neck. Alāe shivered, bodily.

“You aren’t typically this affectionate first thing in the morning.” She said, this time with a smirk. He unfurled his arms to rock back on his cane, with an arch look. “Perhaps I missed your company.” He said.

“It’s good to see you come to me,” she replied. In a moment, she was plating the meal. “You’ve already eaten, haven’t you?”

He didn’t say anything. No, instead Duliae just assumed his seat at the table once more, giving her all the time she needed to set out the plates. The two of them dined in a peaceful silence, giving her all the time she needed to think.

“Maybe I’ll pick up some fresh eggs,” she sighed, poking at the assortment of fruit and cheese. “It’s good to be home again.”

“The seller of speciality goods left port a fortnight ago,” Duliae replied. “But if you want, I can look into what’s coming from Manos.”

She didn’t say anything. No, by now Alāe was left with her thoughts.

“I…” She turned to look at him—no, to drink in every line of his face. Conflict kept her heart shut, yet she needed to speak. “Things are happening fast, Duliae. Faster than even before.”

He gazed at her, mirroring her concern. “Darling, if there’s something you need…”

“I just need to be with you,” she whispered. “Please. The flowers, the silks and jewels.. Nothing compares to how I can just… Be at peace, when I see you. When I see your face…” By then, the tears were welling. He leaned forward, to dab them from the corners of her eyes.

“Whatever you aren’t saying… Alāe, please.” He brushed the hair from her face. “You can tell me. You’re not ordinarily…”

“So weepy?” She replied, wiping tears from her eyes. “No and it’s a bother. But it’s… too much. He’s disappearing.” She said, strained. “I can feel him starting to go.”

_”Don’t.”_

“Disappearing?” Duliae echoed. “The Cuthintal?”

_”DON’T!_

Alāe knew better than to claw at her ears. Nothing could spare her from Taiacht’s screaming, his helpless fury at being erased. 

“The Cutinah inside me,” she said, wincing. “He’s being…”

_”I WILL NOT BE CONSUMED BY YOU!”_

A flash of light and a pain so deep, she thought he meant to stop her heart. Alāe cried out, briefly. She could feel Duliae’s steady hands. The tone of voice he put on when he was desperate to be in control. “Darling, it’s okay. Do I need to call a healer? Alāe?”

She focused. It took everything; every ounce of conscious willpower to break free from the hold. It was the pressure of an inner dam, making to spill over. Numbing his mind was not what she wanted; it only hastened the process. But she could not allow him to destroy her from the inside.

“I need…” She panted, now acutely aware that her hands _were_ indeed, over her ears. “One moment.” She gasped. “It’s okay.”

“He won’t destroy you,” Duliae whispered, pained. But Alāe answered, roughly, panting. “No… He won’t.”

“Because it’s me destroying him.” She said, rueful.

The silence. “It’s me.”

and pain.


End file.
